


A History

by afteriwake



Series: A Past Love [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t hurt to remember her; in fact, it gives him hope that he can find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A History

“Enjoy your ride?”

Sherlock didn’t even look up at John as he walked in. He was staring at the photograph, the one concrete proof that he had, at one point in his life, felt strongly for a female. He had stared at it for the last hour, running through the memories in his head: the smiles, the laughter, the tears and the empty promises to try and keep in touch. “Yes,” he said absently.

“Where did you go?”

He didn’t mention he went to her residence. He couldn’t believe she had left that picture in the car she shared with her husband if he wasn’t meant to find her, if he wasn’t meant to _look_. So he had broken in. It looked as though someone had gone through and taken the good things, but he supposed that they had been things left to other people in the will and it was simply the executor doing his job. There had been no clues there, but all the evidence he did see showed him that Amelia had had a happy life until she disappeared.

“Sherlock?”

This time he looked up. John was in front of him, and he appeared to be reading Amelia’s note on the back of the photo. He lowered it quickly. “I went to an old friend’s home, but she wasn’t there.”

“I thought you didn’t have any friends,” he said.

“That is why I said _old_ friend,” he replied.

“Who’s Amelia?” he asked. “Is she the one who left you the car? I’d wondered about that.”

He didn’t want to share the picture. He didn’t want to share the memories and the mistakes he had made, the golden opportunity he had squandered because he had done what he had wanted with no regards to her. But this was _John_ , who was close enough to a best friend. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt. “She was my first, and thus far only, girlfriend,” he said.

The look of surprise on John’s face almost made him want to scowl. But he didn’t seem to care about women, so he supposed it was natural. “Is that a picture of her?”

He handed John the picture, and when he looked at it he smiled slightly. “God, you look young.”

“I was seventeen,” he said, steepling his fingers together. “I don’t remember how old she was. Fourteen, I believe.”

“A bit young,” he said, handing the photograph back.

“I know,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons why it didn’t work out.”

“You fancied her quite a bit?” he asked.

“Yes,” he replied with a nod. “I had to spend the summer in Leadworth with family. Mycroft had escaped that chore, having gotten a position in the government already. My mother knew her aunt. They introduced us. They had hoped we would be friends. They had not counted on it going farther than that.”

“Sounds a little Romeo and Juliet-like,” he replied.

“We were cautious. We didn’t want them to find out, so we acted as though we were simply friends when they were around or we were in public, but when we were alone, we did not remain just friends.”

“Did you…?” he asked, and Sherlock slowly nodded. “Ah.”

“She is, to this day, the only person I’ve been with, so Mycroft’s claims that I am a virgin are complete rubbish,” he replied. “It was after that that we were found out. Her aunt saw us kissing when she went to fetch Amelia one afternoon about a week later. There was an outrage. We were told not to see each other again, and I was sent back to London early. That photograph was taken by her friend Melody, the only person who knew about our relationship. Melody didn’t like it very much, but she took the picture to make Amelia happy.”

“And you still think about her?”

“I compare every woman I meet to her, if that’s what you mean,” he said. Then he sighed. “I should have gone back and fought for her. That is one of my few regrets in life, that I let her go. And now she’s gone, somewhere.”

“She was declared dead,” he said.

“No, I know her. She had a fascination with something when she was younger. Melody used to tease her about a ‘raggedy doctor’ but Amelia would always tell her to hush, as though she didn’t want me to know. She told me, in the end, and I didn’t believe her. But perhaps I should have.”

“What’s the story?”

“A man crashed into her shed when she was seven years old. He was in a blue police box, and he said his name was the Doctor. He fixed a crack in her wall, and then he got back in his box and disappeared. She waited all night long for him, but he didn’t return for her. By the time I met her she had given up on him, I suppose, and she was embarrassed by the story.”

“Sounds like she had an overactive imagination,” John replied.

“But what if she didn’t?” he said, looking at the photograph. “What if he came back for her?”

“Do you think Mycroft could have heard of him?”

He scowled. “He won’t tell me.”

“Ask. If she really has left on her own and is still alive, you’ll eat yourself up if you don’t find out for certain. Treat her disappearance as if it’s a case, and work it out.” John clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll regret not looking for her just as much as you regret not fighting for her if you don’t try. And who knows? Maybe she still has feelings for you.”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll look at this as though it’s a case. And I suppose I could ask Mycroft if it sounds at all familiar.” He looked over at John. “Thank you for your advice.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Sherlock gave the photograph one last glance before pulling his phone out to call Mycroft. If she was out there somewhere he would find her or die trying.


End file.
